


Thump

by darksquirrel



Series: Change of Atmosphere [12]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 22:00:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksquirrel/pseuds/darksquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean suspected a plot was being hatched by the most unsubtle people in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thump

**_WARNINGS:_** Totally pointless crack fic. Seriously. Squirrels on crack. 

**_ACTUAL WARNING:_** Insinuation of possible animal abuse (not squirrels).

 ** _NOTES:_** I blame this entirely on LittleBounce. She forced me to write this and then did a wonderful editing job so it turned out halfway decent. Yep, all her fault.

 

() () ()

 

Sean walked out of the elevator in the lobby, frowning as he heard Adalind’s voice, sweetly flirtatious. “Thank you _so_ much, David. This is exactly what I needed.”

Rounding a pillar, Sean saw her accepting a pamphlet from the man behind the security desk.

“I highlighted the areas you asked about, Miss Schade,” Dave said, eager and helpful. “Balcony amendment options, pet deposits, and size and weight restrictions.”

Sean narrowed his eyes. What was the woman up to?

“I’m sure it will be very helpful.” Seeing him approaching, Adalind tucked the pamphlet into her purse, but not before Sean made out the familiar Building Rules Committee logo.

“Planning a move?” Sean asked as they exited to the street.

“Just exploring all my options,” she said with a smile.

She was lying, but he didn’t call her on it. Even if he hadn’t been able to tell she was lying, he kept an eye on her finances. She didn’t have the money for a condo in his building.

“There’s the car,” Adalind said brightly, practically sprinting down the sidewalk.

 

() () ()

 

Sergeant Wu was sitting at the table in the break room when Sean stopped at the sink to wash out his coffee mug, the one with a tasteful Christmas wreath on it in deference to the approaching holiday. Wu was reading a magazine, pen flicking against the glossy pages as he read out loud to Detective Griffin. Griffin was brown-bagging lunch today—meatloaf sandwich from the smell of it.

“When dating, your biggest turnoff is..?”

“What does dating have to do with picking a pet?” Griffin asked, popping the tab on a soda.

“A,” Wu continued, ignoring the query. “Too much energy. B, Messiness. C, Clinginess. D, Being too independent.”

Griffin considered the question around a swallow of his drink. “I think I’d have to go with B.”

“B it is.” Wu made a notation in the magazine. “What about you Captain?”

“What about me?” Sean replied, playing dumb in the vain hope he could avoid being drawn into the conversation. He scrubbed harder at the stain in the bottom of the cup.

“Clingy or independent?”

He couldn’t even remember the last time he went on a date that wasn’t a work function. “Definitely not clingy,” he finally said and escaped, taking a handful of paper towels with him to dry off on the run.

“Told you,” he heard Wu gloat as he turned the corner and he chuckled at Griffin’s immediate and vehement disagreement.

 

() () ()

 

“I’m making files for everyone,” Rosalee explained over the phone, “just in case you need medical care here at the shop. In case of emergency.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Sean agreed. “What do you need to know?”

“Do you have any allergies?”

“No.”

“Any medications you can’t handle?”

“No.”

“No problems with pets. Dogs, cats, turtles.”

“Not really.”

“Okay, I think that’s everything for now.

That seemed oddly…quick. “That’s all?”

“For now. I’ll, um, email you a questionnaire.”

She hung up before he could say another word. Sean ended the call from his side as well and laid the phone on his desk. He rubbed his forehead tiredly, suspecting a plot was being hatched by the most unsubtle people in the world.

He just hoped that, whatever it was, it didn’t end in bloodshed.

 

() () ()

 

“Seventy-five cents an hour,” Patty said, shrugging into her coat in preparation to leave.

Sean turned away from the refrigerator, startled at the completely random comment. “Pardon?”

“If you get a pet that is how much I will require for a raise. Seventy-five cents an hour.” She buttoned her coat with swift, practiced movements. “That is for litter boxes or walks, hair removal from the furniture, and cleaning up extraneous messes.”

“Am I getting a pet?” Sean queried, wondering what exactly he’d missed.

“I’m just letting you know,” she said blithely and walked out.

Sean turned back to the fridge as the door closed behind her. He put the orange juice back and chose a beer instead.

 

() () ()

 

He’d been in his office for less than an hour when Burkhardt knocked on the door. Gathering the stack of files from his IN box, he waved the man inside. “Aren’t you supposed to be at home resting, Detective?” he asked mildly.

“Hank just called from the courthouse. Apparently they need me down there in half an hour.” He was in a dark suit and a garishly loud Christmas tie, hair tidily combed, and shoes polished.

The Mendero case if Sean recalled correctly; a double homicide from last year that had finally reached the prosecution stage. The DA had been certain Nick would not be called until they presented the prosecution’s case, which of course meant it happened early and on a day he was officially not at work.

Nick was supposed to be off until Thursday, recovering from a run in with an unruly jagerbar last week. The visible bruises had faded to sallow yellow but there remained a wary hesitance in how he moved, all aborted reaches and sudden stops. Still, a few hours in court were unlikely to involve anything more strenuous than walking up the courthouse stairs and Hank would be there to look after him.

“Let me know how long you’re there so I can amend your timesheet for the week.” Sean sat, assuming that was all he needed, but instead of departing, Nick shut the door.

“Soooo, you remember when you stole the Key?”

Sean looked at him sharply. Nick seemed anxious but not angry and he didn’t have a gun in his hand, which Sean was taking as a good sign.

“And,” Nick continued without waiting for a reply, “how you lied to me for, like, a _year_ about—”

“I remember,” Sean cut in.

“I think,” Nick said in the voice Sean usually associated with him wheedling Hank into finishing his paperwork so he could get off early on date night, “that adds up to a favor or two.”

Sean shuffled the stack of files on his desk, alarm fading into amusement. “I see. What is this favor, exactly?”

Nick’s whole face lit up in a big smile. “Be right back.”

Sean watched him go in bemusement. The man’s sense of humor must be a defense mechanism, he decided, developed long ago to survive Kelly Kessler’s lack of.

He had just opened the first file in the stack when Nick returned with a small pet carrier, an even smaller plastic tub, and a white paper bag. “A pipe broke at Juliette’s office,” he explained. “Flooded the whole place.”

He put the carrier in the corner by the far wall where Sean could just see the top of it. “With that animal hoarding case that went down Monday, every shelter, vet, kennel, and foster family in the city is overloaded. They called everyone they could but most of the kenneled pet owners were out of town. We have two cats in our guest room, a dog in the back yard, and a rabbit in the living room, but this little girl….” He swung the carrier door open and put the tub right up against the opening. “She needs a little extra looking after.”

Ah. Sean smelled a rat.

God, he hoped it wasn’t a _literal_ rat.

Nick stood. “Juliette is doing house calls today and I was supposed to be home to take care of her but….”

“But now you have court,” Sean finished for him. How…convenient.

“And if I leave her out there,” Nick said gesturing at the bull pen, “she won’t get any rest at all. I barely made it in here with all the people attempting a cuddle.” He dusted his hands on his thighs, adding quickly, “I gave her pain meds an hour ago and I should be back before she needs the next dose. She’ll probably sleep the whole time I’m gone.”

“I’m fairly certain,” Sean said, “that I am capable of watching over a….” He paused suddenly aware that the animal in question still had not been identified. “What exactly is it?”

“Kitten, sir.”

Of course it was. “Go to court, Burkhardt. I’ll look after your…kitten.”

“Thanks, sir. I’ll be back in two hours tops.” He left the paper bag on the corner of Sean’s desk as he walked out.

When he was gone, Sean pulled his extra-tall vanilla chai tea closer and started on the first file. He wasn’t going to make calls to confirm that Nick _actually_ had court. He and Nick were still on shaky ground in terms of their work and personal relationship, and while being asked to pet-sit wasn’t on par with building a bridge of trust, it was a foundation stone. He wasn’t sure why they had decided he needed a pet all of a sudden, but he was quite certain he could manage a sleeping animal for a few hours without issue and soon be done with the whole matter.

Halfway through the first report, he heard a rustling noise from the pet carrier. He paused, listening, but it wasn’t repeated. He’d just finished the first and started on the second file, when the rustling came again.

Swiveling the chair sideways with his foot, he leaned backwards far enough to bring the carrier into view and waited. After a moment a small orange and white head poked around the edge. So much for sleeping the whole time.

Yellow eyes surveyed the room, stopping when they reached him. Whiskers twitched, ears pricked forward, and the head tilted in curiosity.

The kitten yawned hugely, pink tongue furling out from between sharp, white fangs, then it looked down at the tub in front of it. After some consideration, an orange paw appeared, stretching down to toe the litter layered thickly in the tub. The other leg followed and Sean could not hold in his snort of surprised amusement at the shockingly pink cast that stretched all the way back to the little furball’s ribs.

Startling at the sound, the kitten overbalanced and pitched face first into the litter. It hung up there for a moment then flopped sideways, ending up on its back, writhing and wiggling like an upset turtle, cast waving in the air.

Sean stared at it for a moment but it showed no sign of being able to right itself, the weight of the cast proving too much. Closing the file, Sean stood and made his way around the desk. He crouched down and reached to help the struggling animal. The tiny body disappeared completely in his hand, so light and fragile that he had a brief, terrifying vision of returning the kitten to Nick with more broken bones than it had started with, thereby destroying the fragile trust building between them. But when he uncurled his fingers it seemed only a little rumpled and confused and went about its business as if there had been no interruption.

When it was done, Sean carefully put it back into the carrier and pushed the door closed but didn’t lock it. There was a water dish just inside and a soft-looking, blue-checked blanket. It would probably just go back to sleep.

He was just closing the third file (and if Detective Winslow used one more semi-colon out of turn he was going to follow through on his threat to send her to Portland Community College for remedial English) when he heard an almost imperceptible creak. Leaning backwards again, he saw the door to the cage was open once more, just a few inches. He waited but there was no sign of movement. After a moment, he decided the door must have moved under its own weight and went back to work.

There was the softest crunchcrunchcrunch. Then a hollow thump. Sean leaned his chair back quickly, but nothing seemed to have changed. The door still hung in the same position.

Thump.

Thump.

Thumpthumpthump.

Rolling his chair back from his desk, Sean looked left. Nothing. He looked right. Nothing.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It seemed to be coming from…under his desk. Rolling backwards a few more inches, he bent sideways to peer underneath the drawers. Nothing.

Thump.

Something landed on his shoe, making him twitch all over in an aborted flinch. He looked down to see his size 12 being mauled by a fuzzy orange body, legs spread so wide they couldn’t even touch the ground, kitten tail straight in the air, cast awkwardly sticking out to one side. Fierce, kitten rwarrs echoed through the room.

Sean stared at it with pursed lips and raised brows, watching it wriggling and gnawing and flailing all over the perfect shine of his shoe. It showed no sign of desisting any time soon. Finally, he scooped it up with one hand, gently setting it on the floor, and said firmly, “No.”

The kitten stared up at him for a beat then bounced towards his _other_ shoe, back arched, legs stiff, cast thumping on the wood flooring. Thump, thump, thump. His shoelaces didn’t stand a chance against that kind of determination.

“That’s not at all what I meant,” he told it.

Carefully gathering the kitten up, he tucked it back into the carrier, checked the water again, and closed the door, locking it. Returning to his desk, he settled in needing to finish up his paperwork before the budget meeting in…he glanced at his watch, less than an hour.

“Mew.”

They had left off at office supplies last week and while Sean was prepared to wage fierce battle to keep his officers in paper and ink, he was willing to make compromises if it meant approval on the new Tablets that had been on the wish list for two years. It was very frustrating not being able to just purchase them himself and give them to the department. One could only make so many anonymous donations before drawing unwanted attention.

“Mew.”

Hanna Givvey had been head of spending committee for nine months and made it her mission to squeeze every penny until it squeaked. He would need all his concentration to deter more cuts.

“Mew.”

They’d already gone to war over the need for two new desk chairs for the squad room, the local deli prisoner meals were ordered from, and ,as always, overti—

“Mew.”

Overtime.

“Mew.”

Sean dropped his pen and slowly rolled his chair backwards until he could see the pet carrier. An orange paw poked through the grate of the door, much like a prisoner gripping the bars of the cell in despair.

“Mew.”

“Shush.”

“Mew.”

He hadn’t really thought that would work, but it would have been nice.

“Mew.”

Maybe it was hungry. He snagged the paper bag off the corner of his desk, wondering if Burkhardt had left food.

“Mew.”

Inside was a small glass bottle with an eye dropper. There was a tin of food, a dish, and a small plastic bottle with a picture of a grey kitten with a full milk beard on the label.

“Mew.”

Choosing the plastic bottle, he carefully read the label, which promised it was formulated by veterinarians and suitable for all kittens and pregnant or lactating cats. There were directions specifying 2oz of formula for 4oz of body weight.

“Mew.”

The kitten had felt so tiny and light in his hand except for the heavy drag of the cast. He read the directions again and contemplated calling for the digital scale they used in Evidence to weigh in seized drugs. Perhaps he could hold the cast up and weigh the rest of the animal. It would give him a rough number to work with.

_“Mew!”_

Or he could just guess. Shaking the bottle vigorously (as per the bold print on the lid), he cracked it open and poured a generous amount into the dish.

“Mew.”

He placed the dish on the floor on the other side of the desk and opened the carrier door, gently extracting the animal, placing it directly in front of the food. It fell on the milk with gratifying speed, purring as it lapped.

Satisfied it would be busy for a few minutes, Sean returned to his chair determined to power through the last report before Givvey arrived.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump, thump, thump.

Sean sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead as he felt the sharp tug on the left shoelaces. This was payback, he thought with a sigh. Karmic retribution for all the wrong he had done in his life. On the other side of the city, Marie Kessler was laughing in her grave.

Obviously the cat carrier was out of the question. Perhaps…. He retrieved the eye-dropper bottle from the paper bag. As expected, it was the mentioned pain medicine Nick had mentioned. Perhaps it was time for another dose, which would make the kitten sleepy and allow him to get some work done.

He scanned the label. “Pamplemousse?” He looked down at the curious, little face gazing up at him, the now damp shoelace dangling from its mouth like catfish whiskers. “Really?” Though its coloring _did_ somewhat resemble a grapefruit.

If Nick had administered a dose directly before dropping it off that meant another dose should be given in….two more hours. Damn.

The kitten released a mighty growl and redoubled its efforts to kill his shoelace.

He could work through this. He _could_. He had worked through twenty-four hour days, assassination attempts, and some of Wu’s worst puns. One tiny kitten was not going to shake his concentration.

Turning to the report again, he focused hard, burying himself in the details of Officers Perry and Schmecker and their attempt to break up a bar fight. The incident had ended with the arrests of seven members of a wedding party including both sets of parents. Engrossed, it took him a few moments to notice the mauling of his shoe had stopped.

Thump, thump, thump.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his desk lamp twitch.

He paused, mid-page flip.

The lamp twitched again then slid several inches, jerking to a halt on the very edge of the desk. Sean lunged for it, grabbing the lamp just as it tipped into a plummet for the ground, sending file folders shooting off the front of the desk.

There was a flurry of thumps as the kitten scrambled for safety. Setting the lamp well into the middle of the desk, he went to retrieve the files, grateful they hadn’t scattered the length and breadth of the office.

Feeling eyes on him, he peered under the desk where the kitten had taken refuge. “Don’t look at me like that. It was your own fault.”

There was a burst of speed. _Thumpity, thump, thump._ And Sean found himself with a lap full of kitten.

Sliding the files onto the desk, he picked it up with both hands and returned to his chair. “This isn’t going to work out, you know,” he told it, sitting down with the animal on his lap, safely out of range of anything breakable. It stared at him from between his fingers, purring happily. “I don’t have time for a pet, despite what the three stooges out there think.”

It was so tiny in his hands, so warm and soft. He stroked one hand down its back, feeling every knob of its spine. Had its previous owners not been feeding it enough? It didn’t seem malnourished, but it had lapped up the milk in a startlingly short time.

The kitten bumped its head against his hand, rubbing one cheek along his wrist.

“Looking cute is not going to help,” he informed it. He set the kitten back on the floor. “Go play. Quietly please.” And pulled the files back over. They had remained mostly intact and he was able to find where he left off quickly enough.

Moments later, he felt the impact of a tiny body against his shoe and the tug of teeth on the laces. Dropping his pen with a sigh of frustration, he gazed out the window. Sergeant Wu was just returning to his desk, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Perfect. Pressing the intercom button to get his attention, he called the man into his office.

“What’s up, boss?”

“Sergeant, I have a request. Off the books.”

Wu straightened, gaze sharpening. “Sir?”

Sean rolled the chair backwards, dragging his feet out from under the desk, kitten still attached to one shoe. “Cat toys.”

“Sir?” Wu focused on the kitten, grinning broadly. “Cat toys?”

“I have a budget meeting in fifteen minutes.” He pointed at the kitten. “This needs a distraction.”

Wu’s grin widened. “You’ve never had a cat have you, sir?”

“No.” Aurora, his mother’s cat, had liked to snuggle under the covers with him during thunderstorms. She’d tolerated petting and treats, up to a point. They’d had to leave her with the neighbor when they’d fled to America. His father had hunting dogs and horses. There had been the occasional spoiled lap dog, always amenable to an illicit treat. That was as close as he had ever come to a pet.

“Oooookay then. You don’t need me to go to the store,” Wu said. “All you need is….” He scanned the tidy office for something. “This,” he said triumphantly and plucked a pen from the holder on Sean’s desk. Pulling off the lid, he discarded the pen and crouched down. “Hey, kitty, kitty. What’s her name?”

“Pamplemousse.”

“Really?” Wu asked.

“Apparently.”

The kitten watched them with big, serious eyes, absently gnawing the shoelace.

“Pamplemousse,” Wu repeated dubiously. His French inflection was horrible. “That’s an awfully big name for such a little girl.” He sent the pen lid skidding across the floor. “I’m surprised Nick didn’t bring toys. Awfully short sighted of him.”

Abandoning Sean’s shoelaces, the kitten thumped three steps to pounce dramatically.

“When she gets bored with that, just crinkle up a bit of paper. Or find a box. They love boxes.”

“A box?” Sean said. If the kitten hated its carrier, why on earth would it want to be in a box?

“Definitely. Haven’t you ever watched kitty vids on Youtube?”

Sean stared at him.

“You know, large cats trying to get into small boxes…?”

Sean stared at him some more. What, he wondered, had he ever done to make Wu think he spent his rare free time watching homemade movies about cats?

“That’s a _no_ then.” Wu nodded slowly as if confirming something to himself and muttered, “That explains a lot.”

“Thank you for your efforts, Sergeant.”

Wu grinned again. “Just remember this when review time comes around. Fights zombies, rescues shoelaces, entertains kittens….” He was halfway out the door when he paused. “Is Pamplemousse from that animal hoarding case?”

“I’m not certain. You’d have to ask Nick.”

“Huh. Just wondering if she’s up for adoption.”

“You already have a cat,” Sean pointed out. He made a point of knowing the details of his employees’ lives, their strengths and weaknesses.

“And Samson would go nuts if I brought home a kitten,” Wu agreed. “But I wouldn’t want that little lady going to a shelter. She might end up with some nut job who eats kitties for breakfast.”

Sean blinked and looked at the kitten as it attempted to maul his pen lid into submission. In this city…it was entirely possible.

“Or someone with small children,” Wu continued. “Look how tiny she is. She could end up with another broken bone.”

Small children could be dangerous to delicate kitten bones, Sean supposed.

“What she needs is someone with no kids or pets. Indoors, but with lots of room to play.”

Sean rubbed his nose to hide a smile. No one had ever called Wu subtle. Except as a joke.

“Uh oh, your favorite person is here,” Wu warned, drawing his attention back to the door then made his escape to his own desk.

Sean looked through the blinds, spotting Givvey making her way over, massive red binder tucked under one arm. He stifled a sigh and reached to move the kitten back into its carrier. With a new toy to distract it, he might get through this meeting without a mew of disruption.

Unfortunately, Givvey plowed into the room just as he straightened up with a handful of orange fluff and neon pink cast. The woman stopped and stared then…cooed. Sean gaped in shock, mouth dropping open a little.

“Is it yours?” Givvey asked. “What happened to its leg?”

“It’s—she’s—not mine,” Sean explained. “I’m watching her for one of my detectives who was unexpectedly called to court.”

She swooped and before Sean realized what was happening the kitten was being snuggled in Givvey’s arms, squeezed up against a bosom that threatened to swallow her whole. “Oh, she’s just adorable.”

Pamplemousse wiggled and pushed at the woman with her paws, mostly whacking her in the chest with the cast.

Sean couldn’t blame her; he’d be upset too if he was being squished against that. Giving in to the gaze of desperation, he plucked the struggling kitten free, carefully avoiding touching anything…else. “The vet was specific that she not be over-handled while the cast is on,” he lied.

With Pamplemousse back to thumping after the pen lid, Sean retrieved his own budget binder from the table under the window and sat, pointedly opening it to the marked page. “Shall we begin?”

It was the fastest, easiest meeting he’d had since Givvey had taken over for her predecessor. With him, Sean had been able to smooth over disagreements with brandy and a round of golf now and then. Givvey had, until today, proven…un-smoothable. She was smoothed as hell as she left the office, pausing to give the reluctant Pamplemousse a head pat.

Kittens, apparently, were her kryptonite.

Perhaps he’d have to schedule their next meeting to coincide with the visit of the Humane Society’s Snuggle Express. If a five second hug was enough to get them new desk chairs, several minutes with a kitten or puppy might gain approval on those Tablets.

“Mew.”

Sean looked down to see a hopeful face gazing up at him. "Surely you’re not hungry again?”

“Mew.”

“You just ate.”

“Mew.” A paw patted at his pants leg.

“You have a toy.”

“Mew.” Another soft pat. Then the claws came out and the kitten tried to climb his leg.

He yelped and scrambled to grab the beast as she somehow managed to lunge further up his pants leg with three good paws, cast banging against his shin. He disentangled her and put her on his desktop while he checked his leg for damage.

A wet nose prodded at the hand he had on the desk, nudging and nudging until he turned it over. Immediately she made herself at home, curling into a neat ball in his palm, except for the cast poking out between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m going to need that hand,” he informed her.

She yawned, pink tongue unfurling, ears stretching.

She was, Sean admitted to himself, rather cute. “A few minutes,” he warned. “No more.”

Half an hour later, he’d finished the files he’d been trying to review before Givvey’s early arrival. He started to look at his watch, only to remember it was on the wrist of the hand currently being used as a bed, and settled for the wall clock. Two hours had passed, Nick should be back soon.

Another thirty minutes later there was still no sign of Nick, his hand was edging towards numb, and the kitten showed no sign of waking. He watched her sleep, stomach rising and falling rapidly. He stroked a finger over the miniature head, earning a sleepy mew that made him smile. Right now, still and quiet, he could see why people enjoyed them. There was something…calming about watching her sleep. It was…comforting and warming that she placed this much trust in him.

His phone rang. A reporter looking for a quote on the officer suspended pending a Use of Force investigation. Wedging the phone between shoulder and ear, he carefully transferred the kitten to his In basket, and flexed his fingers in relief.

As he repeated his usual ‘no comment’ stance in now less than four new and unusual ways, he took the blanket out of the carrier and tucked it around her. He preferred his office cool, not only because of the suit jacket he wore all day, but also for the speeding effect it had on visitors.

He had just gotten the reporter off the phone when there was a knock on the door. He looked up expecting Burkhardt and found Wu instead, file folder in hand, looking from him to the kitten with an amused expression.

“She was cold,” Sean said, cutting off whatever comment Wu was about to spit out.

Wu grinned broadly, handed over the file, and walked out without a word.

Sean smiled to himself and reached out to pet the kitten’s soft, little head again, rubbing around the ears. “Maybe I _should_ keep you. Shutting Wu up has to be a superpower of some sort.”

Nick returned an hour later, apologetic for the delay, but they both knew court worked on its own schedule. He smiled when he saw her, still sleeping, but kept his comments to himself. “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble,” he said, folding the blanket back into the carrier.

“No trouble.” Sean picked up the kitten, sleepy and pliant in his hands.

“Really?” Nick looked surprised and Sean wondered how many texts Wu had sent over the past two hours.

“She mostly slept and ate.” He laid her on the blanket, making sure the cast was propped in a comfortable position. Retrieving the pen lid from under the corner of his desk, he tucked it in next to her, indulging in one last head rub before he latched the door.

“Thanks.” Nick had gathered up the litter box and bag of supplies. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” He closed the door behind them and returned to his desk. The room was very quiet without the soft rustling of a kitten crinkling his paperwork.

 

() () ()

 

Christmas Eve four days later, Sean was relaxing on the couch with a glass of wine and a book he’d been trying to get to for months when the doorbell rang. There had been no call from building Security so likely it was someone from inside the building. He had an elderly neighbor who occasionally needed help reaching items from high shelves. For a woman who was supposedly banned from step ladders, she stored a lot of items on high shelves.

Retrieving a gun from the side table, he went to the door, looking through the peep hole. Drew Wu’s grinning face looked back at him. Behind him was Burkhardt, Nick’s fiancé holding a festive gift bag, and there was Griffin in the back with a shit-eating grin on his face. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, but it still took him a moment to collect himself and open the door.

“Merry Christmas!” Wu and Burkhardt exclaimed in unison, both of them grinning like children with the best secret ever.

“Merry Christmas.” Leaning sideways, he tucked the gun behind the potted plan on the hall table. “Come in.”

They filed past, carrying assorted boxes and bags and a familiar pet carrier with a big, red bow on it.

Juliette paused in passing, murmuring, “Sorry about the invasion.”

“I learned long ago that where those three are concerned,” Sean replied with a nod towards his Sergeant and Detectives, “it’s better just to go along.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Juliette agreed fervently, sharing a smile.

“Would you care for a glass of wine?” Sean asked her.

“Yes, please,” Juliette said. “They sang Christmas carols the whole way over.”

Fetching four more glasses, he opened a new bottle and let it sit on the counter while he poured the last of the old bottle for Juliette.

“Which way is the bathroom?” Hank called, “we’ll set up the litter box there.” He and Wu were already headed for the bedroom.

“Litter box?” Sean asked, handing Juliette the glass.

“ _Mew_!”

He recognized that voice.

Nick set the carrier down and opened the door. A blur of orange and white burst out, bouncing straight for Sean’s feet. Which were _bare_ , he remembered suddenly. He intercepted the kitten before she could sink her claws in, tucking the small body against his chest with one hand. “No cast,” he noted.

“Removed two days ago,” Juliette said. She sipped the wine, made a pleased face, then took a healthy swig. “The break healed well, but she’ll never be able to be an outside cat. She needs a quiet home with no rambunctious kids or dogs.”

“How fortuitous,” Sean said, quiet blandly he thought, but Nick looked up at him abruptly.

“You knew,” he accused in a sharp whisper. “How long have you known?”

“About the time Wu and Griffin were questioning my dating habits,” Sean admitted. “You could have just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Nick grinned and glanced towards the bedroom door. “Don’t tell those two, they thought they were being low key.”

Sean mimed zipping his lips.

“You _can_ say no,” Juliette pointed out. “Taking on a pet is a big responsibility.” She looked pointedly around the living room Patty kept tidy to the point it resembled a hotel rather than a place someone lived.

Sensing his indecision, Pamplemousse decided to climb to his shoulder, claws snagging his t-shirt. She purred loudly and rubbed a cheek along his chin. Steadying her with a hand on her back, he thought it might be nice to have something to come home to besides an empty apartment and a solo dinner.

Wu and Griffin came out of the bedroom sans litter and stood staring at him.

“I’m hardly ever home,” he said, but it wasn’t refusal and from the round of happy smiles they all knew it. He was already considering how he’d have to cut down on long nights at the office, bring paperwork home with him instead of staying late.

“Which is why,” Nick said, reaching into the cat carrier for a second time, “we brought a friend. They’ll keep each other company.” He stood holding a solid black kitten of about the same size and age as Pamplemousse.

“They’re not littermates,” Juliette explained, “but they both came from the same house and they got on really well.”

“And we brought toys,” Wu exclaimed, seizing the large gift bag Juliette had left on his coffee table. “Beds and food and dishes with their names on them.”

“We, uh, couldn’t fit Pamplemousse on the dish,” Griffin put in, “so hers just says Mousse.”

Which was only slightly less ridiculous.

“And tiny, tiny collars with bells so they can’t sneak up behind you,” Wu continued.

“And this one,” Nick said, cuddling the black kitten, “is Shadow.”

Shadow stared at Sean with huge gray eyes, not as certain of this arrangement as Mousse appeared to be from her perch on his shoulder, gazing regally down at the rest of the group.

This was, he realized, an unanticipated side effect of his choice to make allies rather than keep them as pawns. He could hardly say no to them—particularly to his Grimm—making this gesture.

“Eventually you’ll need a cat tree,” Wu burst out, all but bouncing with glee. “And safeguards for the balcony. I have brochures somewhere….” He dug into the bag again.

“I think you might have left them in the car,” Hank told him.

“No, no, I think they’re in there,” Juliette put in.

Sean watched them all trying to look through the gift bag at the same time and suddenly noticing Nick was _right_ next to him. It made his heart startle a little having a Grimm sneak up on him.

“Merry Christmas, sir,” Nick said, dumping Shadow into Sean’s arms.

Mousse immediately decided she needed to climb down and visit the other kitten. Sean rubbed his chest, beginning to realize just how much his zauberbeist constitution was going to be tested by this tiny creature.

Nick smirked and said helpfully, “Hank wanted to get you snapping turtles.”

 

The End

 

 ** _NOTES:_** Apparently I want to give everyone in this universe a cat. Hank must be next.


End file.
